


Similar Zoological Institutions

by neveralarch



Category: 20th Century CE RPF, The Flashman Papers - George MacDonald Fraser
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Flashman and Theodore Roosevelt and a bunch of dead animals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Similar Zoological Institutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [machiavellijr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/machiavellijr/gifts).



> Happy yuletide, machiavellijr!
> 
> Fic contains incidental animal harm. Let me know if you need details.

I met President Theodore Roosevelt more'n once, but mostly it was those damnably dull political hooplas where you exchange a few false compliments and a handshake and then ignore each other in favor of cigars and the table. The meeting I'm going to tell you about was just as short as before, but this didn't happen in some duchess' weedy garden or in front of the yapping press. 

Two years ago - that is, in the spring of 1910 - I was taking my leisure in the Sudan. I like leisure, like it a lot. I like leisure in the outer British Empire the best, as you can get away with a lot more. When it is quiet and no bastard is shooting at me, anyway. I had rented a whole house in Khartoum, and Elspeth had come along to sight-see and perform charity and seduce our native butler. 

I admit I have no evidence about that last, and not much right to complain either way. But I had a feeling.

On this particular day, Frederick Selous burst in on my morning vittles. The servant was trailing after Selous, wanting to announce him, but it was too late. Selous had grabbed a seat at my table and was eying my spread.

Selous was a hunter and a fellow British officer. We were on friendly terms, more or less. He was a bit of a bore and much too charismatic - and I expect he found me too sharp. But he respected me, as a young famous officer might respect an elder one. Well, if you can call a fifty-year-old young. I do, but I'm practically ancient.

"Hallo," says he, with a grin. "Is that tea?"

"Keep your hands off," says I, but it was too late. Selous had already snagged my tea pot. "Here to cadge my rations, are you?"

"Yes," admitted Selous. "I was in the neighborhood." He sipped his tea and sighed like a man who has found heaven. I have heard myself sigh like that, with some houri underneath me. It was a waste of breath when directed at _tea_.

Selous took no notice of my glaring. He gulped more tea and asked: "Would you like to meet a president?"

I raised my eyebrows, but Selous wouldn't say another word. After a few moments and Selous' steady consumption of my tea stash, I got up and found my boots.

\---

Teddy Roosevelt didn't shake my hand when we reintroduced. I ain't upset about it. He was literally covered in blood from fingers to elbow, and I was wearing a new jacket. 

"Skinning the last of the animals before we leave," says Roosevelt. "We have men for it, course, but-"

"There are a lot of animals," I observed. 

Roosevelt beamed. He was surrounded by carcasses - rhinoceroses, big cats, jackals, lizards. Scientists were arguing with hunters were arguing with taxidermists were arguing with scientists. Kermit Roosevelt was standing in the middle of it, flipping a large hunting knife from hand to hand. It was chaos.

Roosevelt looked like the happiest man in the world.

"A great day for science," he kept saying. "My only regret is that we must go home." He glanced at me, eyes sharp behind his spectacles. "Were you a hunter in your time, Sir Harry?"

"Never saw the point," says I. Ten years ago I would've fallen over myself to brag about my great fictitious hunting days, but now I'm much too old to care about sycophancy.

"But you've done a lot of shooting." Roosevelt laughed. "I've read about you. I flatter myself that we're more than a little alike."

"You flatter _me_ , Mr. President." Well. Maybe I wasn't too old.

Roosevelt started telling me a terrifically long story about the Rough Riders, and I started neglecting him in favor of my own fingernails. I soon made my excuses and went home for lunch, where I was scolded by Elspeth for seeing Roosevelt without her. I told her about the dead animals, hoping that this would rid her of her enthusiasm for presidents. Unfortunately, Elspeth has become an advocate of progress and science in her old age, and any disgust was soon erased when I mentioned the phrase 'Smithsonian Expedition.'

At any rate, that is Roosevelt. Bloody hands, dead animals, and a booming laugh.

What an American.


End file.
